Tav strode forward while Veraque and I remained rooted in place—Veraque because she was wisely letting the group dynamics unfold, and me because shock had frozen my limbs. The tension in the air felt thick enough to cut with a blade.
Tav approached Kuti slowly, his shoulders rigid with restrained fury. He knelt beside Col's motionless form, his fingers trembling slightly as he checked for signs of life. Col's garments were shredded where the Flayers had attacked, and dark blood stained her pale skin in irregular patterns. But beneath the carnage, her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Her eyes, though glazed, still contained a flicker of awareness.
A heavy silence hung between us all before Tav finally spoke, his voice dangerously quiet.
"You knew she wouldn't die." He didn't phrase it as a question. His gaze never left Col's face as he spoke, perhaps afraid that if he looked directly at Kuti, his carefully maintained composure would shatter. "Is that why you did it? You calculated that Veraque's Holy Mandate would save her?"
When Kuti didn't respond, Tav finally turned to her. He leaned forward until their faces were inches apart, forcing a confrontation. Kuti averted her eyes, still cradling Col's head in her lap with surprising tenderness.
"Look at me," Tav demanded, his voice breaking. "What if Veraque hadn't arrived in time? What if something had gone wrong?" His voice rose with each question, echoing against the trees surrounding us. "Col's blood would have been on your hands, Kuti. How could you gamble with her life like that?"
From where I stood, I could see Veraque shifting uncomfortably, caught between intervention and observation. She took a hesitant step forward, one hand half-raised as if to place it on Tav's shoulder.
"Tav, perhaps we should—" Veraque began softly.
"Yes," Kuti interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I knew she wouldn't die."
As she spoke, tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. A sad smile pulled at the corners of her lips—not the smile of someone vindicated, but of someone who had carried a burden for far too long.
"But not because of Kindness," she continued, her fingers absently stroking Col's matted hair. "It's because she's a Waiter."
Veraque's sharp intake of breath sliced through the moment. Her hand flew to her mouth, and I could see understanding dawning in her eyes—understanding that still eluded the rest of us.
"I know that, but what does that. . .?" Tav rocked back on his heels, confusion momentarily displacing his anger.
Kuti lifted her gaze, and for the first time, I saw the exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She nodded toward me, a slight movement that carried the weight of revelation.
"How do you think your friend over there is still alive after centuries of Waiting?" She asked Tav, but her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made me shift uncomfortably.
Tav glanced between me and Col, his brow furrowed. "I know Patience's Holy Mandate prolongs life, but..."
"It doesn't just prolong life," Kuti said, her voice gaining strength as she finally unburdened herself of a truth she had carried alone. "It means you simply cannot die."
The words hung in the clearing like physical things, heavy and immutable.
"Think about it," she continued, looking down at Col's face with a complex mixture of resentment and care. "If you die, then you wouldn't be able to 'wait' until the outcome Patience set out for you was fulfilled. Death would make the waiting impossible. So Patience doesn't allow it."
She shifted Col's weight in her arms, and I noticed for the first time how, despite the torn clothing and blood, Col's skin remained unmarked. The blood that covered her wasn't her own—perhaps it belonged to Fisher or Reni, victims of the Flayers we'd narrowly escaped.
"My family knew about Holy Mandates from their time in Patience, and they passed it down so we knew how to take care of Her," Kuti explained, her voice softening with memories. "That's how I knew she wouldn't die. I've known what she is since the day I found her."
"But still," Tav said, sitting back fully now, anger giving way to moral uncertainty, "throwing her to the Flayers like that..."
"Yes, I know what it looked like," Kuti responded, a flash of defiance in her tear-filled eyes. "I betrayed her trust. I acted selfishly."
Her voice steadied as she continued, years of frustration finally finding release. "But can you truly blame me, Tav?"
She shifted Col gently to the ground between them and stood up, her slight frame suddenly imposing with righteous indignation.
"For five years—five years—I've carried this woman I've never even spoken to!" Her voice echoed through the clearing, startling birds from nearby branches. "Ever since I fled the Temperance domain, since my parents abandoned me to this fate, I've borne this burden alone."
Kuti paced in a small circle, gesturing wildly as years of pent-up emotions poured out. "Do you know what the village children called me? 'Coffin mule.' 'Undertaker.' They would follow me through the streets, making ghostly sounds and laughing when I couldn't run away because of her."
She stopped abruptly, looking down at Col with a mixture of resentment and something that resembled affection. "She might never wake up in my lifetime. Do you understand? I might spend my entire existence protecting someone who will never even know my name."
Kuti knelt again beside Col, her shoulders slumping with the weight of confession. "My mother told me that sometimes Waiters pass through generations—a family curse, an heirloom of flesh and bone. I could be condemning my future daughter to the same fate, and she her daughter after her."
A single tear splashed onto Col's cheek as Kuti whispered, "Maybe she'll never wake up at all."
The forest around us had grown quiet, as if nature itself were respectfully listening to Kuti's confession. In that moment, I understood that what had appeared to be betrayal was actually desperation—the desperate act of someone who had carried a burden alone for too long.
Veraque finally stepped forward, kneeling beside Kuti and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked, without judgment in her voice.
"Maybe... I should have just left her." She continued, her sobs softening. "I already threw her in with the Flayers. I could have just run off this place, maybe into another domain, maybe even to some rebel outliers. But-"
Her lips trembled. "For some reason, I just can't leave her here. Even though she's never been more than a literal burden for my whole life. Why, why why?!"
She started crying again, shoving her head into Tav's shoulder, even though he had been interrogating her before. Tav didn't push her away.
The sun slowly kept on rising, and for the first time, the sky was clear. No dark clouds, no rain. The sun illuminated the clouds at odd angles so they turned wine red at the fringes, like clouds full of blood.
The red sunlight poured into the forest. Birds sang, ants emerged from their burrows, picking leaves and other food. Little lizards scurried through, eating up the ants.
Strange birds I had never seen before in my era, bright red and yellow colored birds with wingspans twice their body lengths glided through the trees, and one dashed to the floor, eating up a lizard that had been caught offguard. And then a giant tongue from under the bushes emerged, catching it in its grip and pulling it into its jaws.
I recognized that tongue.
Flayers.
The pitch black lizard prowled out of the bushes, eyeing us hungrily. My throat closed up as I instinctively grabbed Veraque's arm, my fingernails digging into her skin. The Flayer's scales gleamed like oil in the red sunlight, its jaw unhinging slightly as it assessed us, still stained with the blood of its recent meal. But when it saw Veraque, it remembered what had happened yesterday, and turned back, probably to catch more of those red birds.
"Fuck," I whispered, my legs still shaking even after it retreated.
"It's okay, Bon," Veraque said quietly, not pulling away from my grip. "It won't come near us while my domain is active."
That was the food chain in the forest. And we would have become part of the prey segment if Veraque wasn't here, with her domain activated.
Tav was silent as Kuti continued weeping in his arms. Soon the cries turned into silent sobs, and then it ended. We had all kept quiet to let her cry. Now she voiced the question I had been thinking.
"So what now?" She asked as she dried her tears from her cheek.
Tav looked at Kuti, then at the wooden box.
Wordlessly, he picked up Col, placed her in the box as Kuti and Veraque stared nonplussed. I already had an idea what he was doing though.
He shut the wooden door and did the brass latches. Then he picked it up from one of the straps and lifted it up on his shoulder.
"I never had a real family," He said, staring into space. "My parents and relatives were dissenters, so they were all... taken care of by Humility."
Then he stared straight into Kuti's eye and made his proclamation.
"Since you don't have any family apart from Col to stick to, I'll-No." He paused, then gestured to me and Veraque standing behind, and then to vaguely to the people back in the main camp. "WE'LL be your family. And I'll carry your burden with you."
Kuti shook her head, backing away. "You don't get it. This isn't just about carrying her. It's years of your life. I can't ask that of you."
"You didn't ask," Tav said firmly.
Kuti looked to me and Veraque, searching our faces. "And what about you two? You willing to be stuck with a cursed woman and her coffin?"
Veraque stepped forward, still gentle but with conviction. "If this is what Kindness demands, I will answer."
I shrugged, trying to look more casual than I felt. "Not like I've got anywhere better to be."
Kuti stared at Tav wide-eyed, then she closed her eyes, and accepted it.
"Then come on, let's head back to the camp," Tav said.
Tav and Kuti walked back together to rejoin me and Veraque. I didn't know how to feel. Maybe I was really angry because I felt a sort of kinship with Col because we were both Waiters, but I still understood Kuti's anger. Whether I forgave her was another thing.
As Tav made it in front of Veraque to walk back to the main camp, she patted him on his broad shoulder.
"You did a good thing, Tav," Veraque whispered. "Just... do you think you're taking on too many burdens?"
Tav turned his head slightly to Veraque as she continued. "Trying to help Bon get back on his feet, helping Kuti with her burden, not to mention all the healing you've been doing, it's a lot for one person. You're not a Virtue Priestess."
"I don't have to be one," Tav said resolutely, turning back to walk to the camp, and I couldn't help but think of how inadequate I was compared to Tav.
After an hour of walking back, we made it. But something was already wrong.
People weren't just moving—they were fleeing. Three men yanked down tents while others stuffed belongings into sacks. A woman hurried past with armfuls of dried meat, distributing it to others who shoved it into their packs without bothering to wrap it. Children were being gathered and counted by a gray-haired elder who checked names off a scrap of parchment with trembling hands.
"What's going on?" Veraque asked, her voice rising above the din.
The man from earlier with a black coat cut through the chaos toward us, moving with disciplined precision despite the panic around him. The faint scar across his face tightened as he approached. Unlike the others, his movements were controlled, methodical. He carried a sword at his hip that hadn't been there this morning, and a makeshift map was clutched in his hand.
"Humility's scouts have been spotted on the western ridge," he said, voice clipped as he quickly rolled the map and tucked it into his belt. "Two hunting parties encountered them an hour ago. One party didn't make it back."
He looked Veraque straight in the eye, terror creeping to his face. "There's no fighting them. We need to run."